Empire State of Sadness, Part 2
Introduction What was Isabella doing the whole time when she was in New York? We never heard much about what was going on, except that Melanie Meyer was being a real jerk-face. In this new, also poetic story, you'll find out just exactly what Melanie did to irritate Isabella. (Just to let you know, this is purely from Isabella's view, unlike in Empire State of Sadness, told in a Flipped fashion with each poem alternating between Phin and Isa's POVs. Got it? Good. [[User:American che|'American che']]{elvendork — it's unisex!}) Story "Isa, wake up." The words float in on an air current into my new bedroom in my new apartment. "Do I have to?" My mother's voice, annoyed, answers, "You want to see your new school, don't you?" "I don't know, Mom. Do I?" My mother sighs and leans against the door frame. "Isa, just get up." I get dressed and head to school. My new apartment is right near my school, but since it's New York, with the buses and cars and SUVs, releasing exhaust, I end up smelling like fumes instead of cotton candy when I reach school. The school is gray all over. Gray tile, gray walls, gray ceilings. I feel like I'm in a black-and-white movie. But if this was a black-and-white movie, Phineas would come parading down the hall on a white horse or something, wouldn't he? I walk into class. My new teacher is a sharp-looking woman, with a pointy jaw and dark hair. She looks at me as I walk in. "Isabella Garcia-Shapiro, eh?" "Um, yes," I say, wishing I could sit down like back in Danville. Instead, the teacher ushers me up to the front of the classroom, insisting I introduce myself. "Class," she croaks, "this is Isabella Garcia-Shapiro." "Hello, Isabella," the kids repeat in a monotone. I take my seat as a blonde girl flounces in. I feel completely opposite of this girl. She has blonde, wavy hair, not one hair out of place. I bet she'd never be caught dead smelling like exhaust. "Hello, Melanie," my teacher says, looking at the blonde girl. "You're late." "But of course, I'm fashionably late!" she squeals. The teacher rolls her eyes, but tries to cover it by blinking. "Well, Melanie," she says, "this is Isabella Garcia-Shapiro." Melanie turns and looks at me as though I'm something disgusting stuck to the bottom of her high heel, a wad of chewed up gum. Wrinkling her nose, she says, "Hi, Isabelle." My name's not Isabelle, I think, remembering the brown-haired jerk I met over the summer. Melanie sits prissily in her seat, folding her hands and giving the teacher her full, fake, attention. The girl next to me whispers to me, "So she doesn't like you, either?" "I guess not," I say. "I'm Claire." "Really?" "Yep. Claire Summers, at your service." The teacher turns away from the board. "Isabella and Claire, is there something you'd like to share with the class?" Melanie snorts. I normally would have mumbled, "Um, no," but Claire says, "Nah, I don't think so, Teach." Apparently, Claire is the class loudmouth. Melanie turns around in her seat and hisses, "Getting chummy with the riffraff, Isabelle?" I look at Claire, who is blinking, over and over again, fighting back tears. I feign deafness, and then look around in sarcastic shock. "Oh, were you talking?" Melanie turns around again as the teacher says, "Isabella, can you tell us what angle C would be in this situation?" I've never studied this before, how am I supposed to know? Melanie's hand is flying around in the air. She probably wants to outsmart me. Sure enough, when the teacher has given up on me, she calls on Melanie, who clears her throat and says: "Well, teacher, since angle A is one-hundred twenty-eight degrees, then angle C would just have to be one-hundred twenty-eight degrees, too!" "And can you explain why, Melanie?" "Because of vertical angles!" "Quite right," says the teacher, continuing the lesson. I sigh and sit back in my chair, waiting for the day to be over. For the next few days, I'm constantly picked on by Melanie Meyer and her stupid crew. At lunch, Melanie sticks out her foot while I'm talking to Claire and trips me, sending my lunch tray flying, and hitting someone halfway across the cafeteria. I got detention for that. In the hall, I was talking to my lab partner, when Melanie storms up and explodes with anger at my talking to my own lab partner. It's not my fault I got paired with him, and the fact that he happened to be Melanie's boyfriend, but now the rumor is going around that I'm trying to split them up and get together with Nikolai. I wish they knew about Phineas. Category:Fanon Works Category:Poetries Category:Che's Articles